


Another Dance

by clandestine7



Series: their dances [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Romance, but really everything that culminated in it, ep 12 ending, my ode to victuri if you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestine7/pseuds/clandestine7
Summary: Victor wanted the second dance before the first had ended.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yuri on Ice did everything right. And, once again, this is a tumblr schlep-over.
> 
> (I recommend reading the first part of this series before this part, though they can each stand alone)

From the moment Yuri Katsuki, breath thick with champagne and laughter, pulled Victor onto the dance floor, spun him round and held him close and dipped him low, Victor wanted to dance with him again. 

He wanted the second dance before the first had ended, wanted to know what fluttering, tentative, titanium-strong thing was hiding inside of Yuri Katsuki to make him come alive like that.

Victor wanted to know if there was something still inside of _him_ that could come alive again, like he thought it might be doing with Yuri hanging around his neck and gyrating against him and slurring, of all things,  _Be my coach_.

He wanted to know - and didn’t think he deserved to hope this yet - if he could share a part of that beautiful drunken thing Yuri Katsuki showed him.

If it wasn’t just an accident.

A thing to forget.

(Or not? A growing headache, he’d watched the video so many times. Yuri Katsuki and the scrape of blades on ice in a silent arena. A routine Victor knew in his bones, knew the longing of in his marrow. Was this an answer?  _Should I go? I think I should. I should go. I need to go._ )

A thing Yuri forgot.

A thing, like katsudon, that was deliciously appealing but not to have. A thing to drown, fittingly, in the burn of alcohol. And to return sloggingly to because Victor had promised, after all, and he was still enchanted by it.

A thing, like Yuri’s tentative eros and a talk on the beach and _My theme is love_ , that was to be worked for, but with patience.

A thing that, like the memory of Yuri on the pole, like Yuri’s spitfire smirks and the swoop in Victor’s belly when Yuri yanked him close by the tie, was to be regained.

A thing, like a kiss on the ice, that is to be spontaneous.

What Victor has learned most from Yuri, besides life and love (and let-down, and longing, and laughter) is spontaneity. Overthinking has fared them both poorly.

(A thing that, like the sinking feeling of having said the wrong words, of seeing tears that burn hot with fear, and feeling tears that burn hot with frustration and the first pricks of heartbreak, is to be imperfect.)

When Yuri put the ring on his finger, he was shaking - Yuri, that is, hands trembling so strongly Victor wanted to take both in his and say it then and there, drown out the choir’s singing with it. _I love you, I love you so much Yuri Katsuki, I love you._

It would have been spontaneous enough, but with Yuri less is more and more is less, and it’s a mess in Victor’s head keeping it straight sometimes which is why. He didn’t say it. He was starting to overthink. 

It was easier to put a ring on Yuri’s finger and let that speak for him. Besides, Yuri already knew, face as red as it was. Face as red as it goes when they meet eyes sometimes and realize they’ve both been staring, gazing, admiring. Yuri knows. They both know.

He has Yuri and Yuri has him, and they’ll fumble their way through in whatever order they choose. Engagement today and fellow competitors next month and  _I love you_ three weeks after the wedding. Why not like this?

And so, when Yuri takes his hands, with a glint of silver (of titanium-strong) around his neck, the tears still not quite fully dry in his eyes, and says, “Dance with me,” Victor doesn’t ask for clarification. He smiles full-blown and says, “Yes.”

And now, gala lights brightening the horizon, their skates cutting the ice together, Yuri in his arms as easy as breathing, close enough to count his eyelashes (to kiss, to get lost in), close enough for Victor to melt if he isn’t careful (no one has ever made him feel so soft inside), he’s gotten that dance.


End file.
